Dream Crystal: The Genesis Throw
by Chant99
Summary: Based in my Farscape RPG Universe. This is where all the alternate realities will be linked together. This will be an ongoing storyline. No forward, chapter 3 up September 5, 2006.
1. Chapter 1

He awoke with a strange splitting headache… to alarm klaxons.

Berret swung his feet over the side of his sleeping platform and his skull felt like it was in danger of rolling off his neck.

"What the hell?" he moaned as he grabbed at his temples to keep his head from just doing that.

Before he could organize his foggy thoughts into some semblance of order, Pilot's voice broke in over the ship-wide comm link.

"Emergency on Command! All crew members to the command tier immediately! Emergency on Command!"

"Ah damn," Berret moaned again as his head now took to spinning as well. Luckily he had fallen asleep fully dressed but sans footwear. He thrust his feet into the first things available, which happen to be well-worn Peacekeeper combat boots.

He managed to make it out the doorway of his quarters without colliding with a door jam, and chose the right direction heading to the command tier. Over the comm, other members of the crew were demanding to know what the nature of the emergency was. So many people were talking at the same time that the man couldn't make heads or tails of what was being said. The way he was feeling he briefly wondered if something had failed with the atmospheric system, causing the odd dizziness he was experiencing.

A few microts later he rounded the last bend in the corridor that led to the Command level. Just as he did the comm channel cleared enough for Pilot to get a word in.

"The Shrike is attacking Rygel!" the helmsman called, "Assistance is needed immediately!"

Berret actually paused for a moment in confusion. "What?" he said out loud, and paid for the sudden outburst almost immediately. His head suffering a new throbbing, he entered the command deck ready to demand an explanation from anyone present.

"What the hell is Pilot talking about!" he demanded through new pain. "I'm nowhere near Rygel…"

The words died on his lips as the scene in the control room confronted him. A Shrike was attacking the Hynerian ruler sure enough.

Before him was Chiana, clad in a smaller version of Shrike armor without a cloak, and with a death grip around Rygel's throat. The Nebari's normally beautiful face was emotionless as she throttled the Dominar.

Her hold was so tight that Rygel couldn't even gag for air, his small legs kicked useless at the air as the girl held him suspended before her like a rag doll.

Berret was shocked action-less.

Crichton pushed pass him a few microts later, followed closely by Aeryn.

"Oh Christ," the human said when he saw what was happening. "568 let Rygel go!" John ordered. When the armored gray girl ignored him and continued choking the Hynerian, Crichton turned to the frozen man. "Stop her, Connors, before she kills him!"

When Berret failed to do anything or seem to notice his demand, John struck him on the shoulder. "Stop her! You're the only one she listens to!" Crichton barked.

Aeryn drew her pulse pistol at the moment.

"Stop her now or I will shoot her in the head," the ex-Peacekeeper warned as she leveled her weapon.

It took a moment for him to catch up and realize Crichton had been speaking to him; the threat from Aeryn released his body from whatever mental block had frozen it to the deck. He moved forward to place his body between the Nebari and the gun pointed at her.

"Chiana, let go…" he called as he went to her. The gray didn't respond. He reached her side and attempted to bring her upraised arm downward to release Rygel, only to find he couldn't budge it a henta. It was as if the girl were made of hull-steel.

"What the hezmana is going on here?" yelled D'argo as he arrived on the tier.

"I am about to shoot the Shrike in three microts if she doesn't release Rygel," announced Aeryn.

"Well good frelling riddance," the Luxan commented. "Make sure you take Rygel out too while you have the chance."

"Hold on… give Jared a chance," John broke in irately to the pair.

Berret gave up trying to move the girl's arm and stepped in closer to her. "Let him go," he tried once more. This time Chiana acknowledged him. She tilted her head up in his direction to regard him with an impassive gaze. He was again shocked; as he discovered her normally dark eyes had the silver tint of microbe augmentation to them. _What the hell is going on here?_ He found himself thinking.

"As you wish," the Nebari replied in a toneless voice.

She opened her semi-armored hand, and a half-dead Rygel fell to the deck and began wheezing for air.

An obviously relieved John came over, followed by Aeryn, who had lowered her pulse pistol but not re-holstered it yet. D'argo muttered something about the whole incident being a waste of his time and announced he was heading back to his quarters and his bed. The annoyed Luxan barked an order at Pilot before leaving, not to be disturbed again unless the ship was in immediate danger of being boarded or blown up.

"What the yotz was it about this time?" the Sebacean woman demanded to know of the rest of the crew still present.

Yeah, that is a good question," John added. "Why did 568 decide to choke the dren out of Rygel?"

"Be… because that… metal-clad pasty bitch is a psychopathic killer… that's why," rasped out Rygel from the floor.

Crichton offered the Hynerian a cool sneer. "Sure, Ryg… and we know just how much of a boy scout you are."

Berret ignored the others just as he was trying to ignore is aching head. "Why," he asked the girl.

"The Hynerian was stealing food," Chiana simply replied while pointing down at a previously unseen sack on the deck. Aeryn picked it up and took a look inside.

"Food cubes," she confirmed and then tossed the bag onto a nearby pedestal. "He was hording again."

"So you were going to kill him?" Berret asked in bewilderment.

"It is my purpose to eradicate thieves," the girl replied bluntly.

Aeryn hissed irately. "Not any frelling more it isn't," she growled. She turned back to Berret. "Take this … 'thing', back to your quarters and do not let her wander free about the ship alone anymore… that is if your useless eema can stay sober long enough to do so." Berret was taken aback by the bitter scorn in the woman's tone. However, her comment gave him the missing clue as to what was wrong with his head.

He was indeed suffering the classic symptoms of an immense hang over.

"One more incident with your frell-toy here, and I will personally stuff her out an airlock myself," Aeryn warned further.

Crichton let out an uncharacteristically brutal cackle.

"Aren't we playing Captain Hard-ass tonight," he taunted.

Aeryn glared at him, then poked her gun into his face.

"Frell with me again, Crichton… and you will see just how hard I can be," Aeryn snarled.

John only gave her a twisted smirk in reply. Aeryn narrowed her eyes before lowering her weapon.

"Frell off!" she told him as she turned to leave the tier. "If it had been up to me at the time, you all would have gone out an airlock on that first day," she finished as she exited.

The human twisted his lips up in thought. "I really hate that bitch," he said a microt later.

"I hate you all," put in Rygel as he made his unsteady way over to recover his Hoverthrone.

"You can bite me too, Spanky," John added and then turned back to the other man. "Connors, you really need to get your shit together. We're on shaky ground here."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Berret asked.

"Calling you what?" the human countered.

"You keep referring to me as 'Connors'."

John blinked. "That's your damn name!" he spat.

"It is not," Berret nearly growled back. He was becoming impatient with whatever was going on, and his head hurt too much on top of it all. "My name is Berret."

To his dismay, Crichton merely chuckled.

"Whatever you got into tonight must have been good to make you forget your name," he said. "Okay, if you're not Major Jared Connors, US Special Operations Group, assigned to be my watchdog on the Farscape 2 flight… then you can be this Berret, First-rate frell-up drunk for all I care." Crichton took a step forward and the smile faded from his face. "But whoever you are or you want to be," he continued while poking him in the chest with his forefinger, "You will get your goddamn act together. I'm not going to get killed by some pissed off alien like D.K. did, because you can't accept we're lost light-years away from home, and you can't get back to your little Japanese girlfriend." The other man spared a quick glance to the diminutive female Shrike for a microt. "I don't know what the hell your problem is… you seemed to have found yourself a replacement anyway."

Berret felt numb, not at Crichton's harsh words, but at the realization that somehow in a way he couldn't quite understand just then, everything John was saying made sense to him on some deep level. Bits and pieces of the facts were being reveled to him as he struggled to organize memories that began to flash back at him. He now remembered - things that shouldn't be at all - but somehow were.

Just then the comm channel opened again, this time with a new female voice.

"John? John? What's happening up there?"

The astronaut heaved a heavy sigh and tapped his comm badge.

"Just the usual crap. Its over now… go back to sleep, Jool," he said.

"Well good," the female on the other end of the channel replied, "Then come back to bed."

"I'll be back down in a few microns," John finished and keyed his comm link off. He looked back up at Berret again. "I guess we both have moved on in our own way," he added.

"Who was that?" Berret asked, he didn't recognize the woman on the channel's voice at all.

"Man, you must have went on a worse than usual bender tonight. Forget it… you'll remember Joolushko tomorrow."

Berret nearly scowled. "I have never heard of this person. Where is Zhaan?" he then demanded to know.

"Zhaan? Zhaan who?" the other man asked in turn. "Now who's making up people?"

"The Delvian priestess," the ex-Enforcer supplied. "One of the original escape prisoners aboard this ship."

"Delvian?" John repeated dumbly. "There's never been any Delvians on this floating insane asylum. In fact didn't that pain in the ass Peacekeeper tell us once that her people exterminated some race called Delvians about 70 of their years ago?"

The news struck Berret like a hammer blow. He had to reach out and steady himself against one of the control pedestals. _"Zhaan dead?"_ he asked himself, _"How can this be?"_

Before he could ask any more questions, Crichton's face change to one of brief pity as he took in the other's condition and obvious distress.

"Look, it's been a long night and you're not in good shape. Go on and take 568 back to your quarters before she gets into any more trouble. Sleep off whatever you drank tonight, tomorrows another day."

Chiana had watched the entire scene play out while showing no emotion or special interest. It was then that he realized that 568 meant the Nebari girl. He had been Shrike 457; she was now somehow Shrike 568.

Crichton made to leave the tier also at that moment.

"Chiana," Berret, now someone named Jared Connors, muttered.

"What's that?" John asked at the doorway.

"Her name is… Chiana," he replied weakly.

The human nodded his head. "Yeah, whatever… you named your pet too. That's nice." Then he was gone.

Berret returned to his quarters, the same quarters that he had always remembered at least, followed by the silent Chiana Shrike. Once inside, he went directly to his closet storage and tore the contents apart. Searching it front to back and back to front again failed to yield what he had been looking for - his Shrike armor and cloak.

Instead he found something vastly different and hugely disturbing.

Inside he found a familiar orange IASA flight suit with a patch denoting the Farscape 2 mission, and a name tag reading "Connors" over one pocket. He seized the garment and twisted it around in his hands, expecting it to be a figment of his imagination and to dissolve before his eyes. The garb stubbornly reminded solid in his grasp as he surrendered to the facts and slumped down to sit on his bed.

The Chiana Enforcer watched stonily from the center of the room. When he didn't move for a few moments, she cocked her head slightly.

"What is the purpose of this action," she asked in her monotone.

"I don't know," Berret answered. "I was hoping to find some answers."

"To what?" the Nebari inquired, her head now straight and level once more.

"To whatever is happening here. I remember things strangely… I remember the Farscape flight and coming here… and at the same time I remember something different, I remember being a Shrike…"

The female tilted her head again. "You were never a Syndicate Enforcer," she informed him bluntly.

"I know…" he said, as images of the trip through an unexpected wormhole flashed before his eyes. John and D.K. fighting to regain control of the Farscape 2 vehicle as it careened like an out of control bobsled. Then a split second later he remembered the familiar weight of Enforcer armor, the deadly brace blades at his command, and loving a Nebari thief he didn't deserve to love. "But still… I remember a different life at the same time. I was a Shrike, I'm sure of it."

"As you wish," Chiana told him blankly.

His head throbbed worse the more he tried to focus his thoughts and conflicting memories. He rubbed his temples and when that didn't help much, tried massaging his forehead.

"I can't think straight right now," he finally concluded. "Let's just get some sleep and figure this all out in the morning. You might as well take off your armor and get comfortable," he then suggested.

"As you wish," the gray girl replied again. Within microts she had divested herself of all the heavy plate and boots, standing before him in a skintight fitting ballistic suit undergarment.

For the first time he noticed something, narrowing his eyes he approached her. Chiana allowed him to gently tilt her head from side-to-side as he examined her neck – or more accurately, the scars on her neck.

"Control collar," he murmured and then reached upwards to probe at his own neckline, and feeling only smooth skin. His collar scars were gone!

"Which you removed from me," she reminded him, "Setting me free from Black Syndicate control."

"My god!" Berret exclaimed involuntarily.

"Have you forgotten?" the female Shrike asked with just a bare hint of curiosity.

"No," he replied, and found at that moment he did recall the day. However the memory changed back and forth from him wearing the Enforcer armor to her wearing her version of it. He shook his head to rid himself of the conflicting scenes. "No, I remember," he told her to ward off anymore questions, "Go ahead… lets get some sleep."

Chiana tabbed open the top half of her black ballistic suit, revealing the soft gray flesh beneath it.

"Do you wish to recreate before we enter sleep cycle," she asked.

"What," Berret asked, not quite being up to speed with all the other questions racing through his mind.

Chiana took a step closer to him, looking up at him with eyes that were their natural dark color, but still strangely lifeless. "Do you wish to engage in sexual activity before sleep," she rephrased.

Berret nearly stumbled. "No… not tonight, thank you." He nearly had asked if they had recreated in the past, but then remembered that they had on numerous occasions – mostly when he had been intoxicated.

Something briefly flashed through the Shrike's eyes, that the man thought might have been disappointment. Berret wondered if, unlike him, this Shrike was making an attempt to reach for the love and acceptance she craved.

"As you wish," Chiana answered once more, then moved to the opposite side of the bed. After removing the rest of the black suit she slide smoothly under the cover on that side of the sleeping platform, to lay on her back, gazing up at the ceiling of the room blankly while he undressed.

A new thought struck him.

"Chiana…?" he inquired. The girl seemed to ignore him.

"568," he tried, and she turned her steady stare upon him.

"Are we… close?" he asked.

"We are in the same room," she replied.

Berret almost chuckled despite his wounded head… it was the sort of answer he would have given in that other life he recalled. "No… I mean what is our… relationship?"

"You freed me, we have been together since then."

Berret shook his head, "No, I mean like in as compared to the others aboard the ship. What are we like?"

The girl actually blinked once, as she appeared to give the question some thought.

"I do not trust the others of the crew, I trust only you," she finally said. Then strangely a hint of something crept into her tone for just a microt. "I am loyal… only to you."

With that said, she turned over on her side away from him.

Berret paused as his blood turned abruptly cold. This wasn't right in so many ways. He could remember having those exact feelings in that other life that was constantly derailing his thoughts. If only his head would clear so he could focus!

The only thing he was sure of at the moment was that somehow their roles in those two different lifetimes had gotten switched between them.

But which one was the correct memory, this one in the here and now, or the one he only remembered having been through?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

It was a few arns later, feeling somewhat better but still groggy, when Berret was awakened from a sound sleep by a muffled cry. Reacting slower by far than he would have liked, he reluctantly pried open his eyes. In the dim light of his quarters, he found Chiana sitting upright on her side of the bed. The Nebari was panting heavily and her eyes were large wild saucers as she started off at some fading image only she could see. Her hair was slightly damp and he caught the slight sour scent of sweat born from deep despair.

She had had a nightmare.

Abruptly, his own strange situation came back to him, crashing down like a huge weight on his soul and tired mind. She had been dreaming about her life as a Syndicate Enforcer, about the lives she had taken, about the blood of the innocent and the guilty on her hands.

He knew because he could remember his own vicious nightmares from that other duel life that kept taunting him.

"Apologizes," the female Shrike muttered when she realized she had awakened him.

"Its all right," he told her.

The gray woman began to extract herself from the now tangled sheets unmindful of her nudity. "I will find another place to spend the rest of the sleep cycle so I do not disturb you," she announced.

Shamefully, he remembered times when he had drunken too much and selfishly ordered the troubled girl from his quarters when she suffered her bad dreams. He would not do so tonight.

He reached across the bed and managed to snare her forearm before she moved out of range.

"Wait, there's no need to go," he said. The Shrike looked at him with a new hint of bewilderment at the sudden change in usual procedure. "It was wrong of me to make you always leave before… I'm sorry," he continued in way of explanation and pulled her back down. She allowed herself to be drawn back down to sit on the bed. "This is your home too, and I haven't been very good to you."

"That doesn't not matter," she replied. "I have much more now than I deserve."

"It does matter," he countered. "And everyone deserves something better than how I've treated you until now."

She tilted her head in curiosity, and a mental picture of this girl from another time flashed through his mind, a time when the face before him wore smiles and sly grins, when her features were full of life and joy. "I do not understand," she said, her face a near blank of expression once more.

"You're a living person…" he replied in a struggle to explain himself.

"I am a Black Syndicate Enforcer," she countered.

Berret took her by the shoulders. "You were a Enforcer, not by choice. And you deserve the life back that was taken from you."

"I… I have been…" she started.

"A killer?" he finished for her. It was as if he knew her thoughts, and what she was feeling even if she couldn't show it. And he knew he was right, he'd lived in her place in another time. "I know what they made you into. I know what sort of things they made you do. And I'm here to tell you… it's not your fault."

The girl looked a little bit hesitant as he spoke to her.

"But still… I do those things. Like with the Hynerian today."

"Because its hard to fight against something which has been your nature for so long."

The Nebari blinked once in surprise, one of her more rare shows of an emotion.

"Yes," she said, as if she couldn't believe he'd understand so perfectly.

"Then we will work on teaching you a new way to live your life," he continued. "It will be long and difficult, but I know you'll be able to make yourself into something better then what the Syndicate left you."

"How do you propose to start?" she asked.

He knew it wasn't going to be easy to help the girl find what she lost – what the Scarrans took from her. Especially with no Zhaan to guide and help like he had had in that other place and life he recalled. Oddly enough, that Delvian seemed the most real to him of all those strange memories. He searched the visions he had of the blue woman for a clue as how to proceed, and almost immediately hit upon something that had been a major stepping stone in that other lifetime.

"The first thing we'll do," he said, "Is give you a real name other than Shrike568. That is the first thing you should leave behind."

"Very well," the gray girl only replied.

"I think the name 'Chiana' fits you very well," he supplied, not that he had to put very much thought into it.

"Chiana…" the girl tried out. She appeared to consider it for a few microts. "Chiana," she said again, and then turned her gaze up at him as she reached a decision, "I will be Chiana if that is what you wish."

"Its not what I want, its what you think that matters."

"It is acceptable," she replied a few microts later.

'Okay then," he responded, "Chiana it is." He had a sudden flash of this girl naming him 'Berret', and knew that somehow things had come around in a circle. "Now Chiana, would you like to talk about your bad dreams?" he asked.

The girl's look turned stony for a moment. "I think I would rather not," she told him.

He had an idea that would be her answer; she wasn't ready to let him know the entire truth about the past that haunted her dreams. He more than recalled feeling the same way as the other Shrike. In this case the only thing to do was exactly what that other Chiana had done about his nightmares – he didn't push her about them right away.

"That's okay too," he replied, "We can do that when you feel you are ready. We made enough headway for one night anyway I think. Let's try and get back to sleep if we can."

"As you wish," Chiana replied with just the barest trace of relief in her monotone.

There was one other thing he could do to help her healing, again something he remembered the alternate Chiana had done so many times. Just give her physical comfort… again without any pressure.

To the gray girl's slight surprise, he pulled her close to him as she slid back into her side of the bed. Awkwardly she settled in, not quite sure what was expected of her. He curled an arm around her and let her figure it out for herself. She finally came to rest with her head on his shoulder. She found a strange reassurance in the embrace she had never known before… and was thrilled by the new experience.

Berret felt her relax further as she grew more adjusted to the new situation. He knew how hard it must be for this Chiana to comprehend what was happening. One part of her wanted his affection; another part was at war telling her she didn't deserve anyone's affection for what she had been. Hope and fear in equal combinations and she didn't yet understand how to cope with it. He was as divided as she was, part of him living that other existence in her role, part of him living this life – complete with human emotions and the experience and understanding to manage them.

"Connors?" she asked several microns later as her mind drifted over the night's new events and experiences. Berret welcomed the break from his own deep and somewhat confusing thoughts.

"You can call me Jared," he told her, even though a deeper part of him preferred the dream name Berret. "What is it?"

"Why did you think of the name 'Chiana' for me?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I am curious."

Berret nodded his head briefly, it was an honest question, but could he be as honest with his answer.

"I think I knew a Chiana once. I guess you remind me of her."

"As you wish," she replied. "I like it," she added a few microts later.

"Good," he said.

The exchange might have meant more to him if in the dim cabin light he had seen the single tear that rolled down the Nebari's otherwise expressionless face.

Early the next morning, he left the Nebari Shrike sleeping in his quarters, Pilot having told him privately by holo-comm that the girl had laid awake most of the remainder of the night. The Helmsman played him a brief recording of the girl lying in his arms without moving, staring up at his sleeping face and obviously deep in her own thoughts. Not even an augmented Shrike could stay awake indefinitely and Chiana nodded off barely an arn before he himself arose again. Thankfully, her features had smoothed themselves into a look of peacefulness. It was easier to see the dream Chiana in the ex-Shrike, much more preferable that the blank expression of a Syndicate assassin he thought silently.

He decided to let the gray girl sleep, and dressed himself despite the slight aching head he still possessed. Searching his room, he found a pulse pistol and gun belt and strapped them on. He checked the weapon and found no Chakan magazines for it anywhere in his quarters. It was then he remembered that the Sebacean woman forbid him to have any charges for the weapon because of his heavy drinking tendency. He made a mental note to correct that restriction by the end of the day, whether Aeryn liked it or not.

He strode from his room with a new sense of purpose and headed for the Center Chamber mess. Halfway there he was struck by the dire need for a drink, and stubbornly vowed to himself to never touch another Raslek or Fellip nectar bottle again. The craving grew stronger as the moments passed, despite his resolve, and he wondered if he were going to be able to keep his resolution for very long.

From then on he knew he had to focus all his time and effort into unraveling this mystery around him, even if it meant living the sober life of a monk from then on.

The only thing he could do was to take it micron-by-micron and hope for the best.

He entered the chamber to find the ex-Peacekeeper already there breaking her fast. She looked up and sneered at him to see the pistol strapped to his thigh.

"What's the matter? Your little frell-toy decide to strangle you in your sleep as well?" she asked snidely.

"No," he simply replied as he came around to her side of the table and stopped before her. "I want a Chakan charge for my pistol," he informed her.

The woman only chuckled mirthlessly. "No," she replied just as simply.

"It wasn't a request."

Now Aeryn smiled lopsidedly in amusement. She kicked back her chair and leisurely propped both feet up on the table before answering.

"Get frelled," she finally told him with a dismissing tone.

Berret pretty much expected her refusal, and the easy contempt she showed him, which made what he had to do next all that much easier.

Before the ex-soldier could react, Berret reached down and grabbed her boot ankles and yanked them up to shoulder height, making her chair tip all the way up on its back legs. The woman squawked in surprised and pin-wheeled her arms for balance as her first thought was that the man meant to throw her precariously balance seat over with her in it. Instead, Berret reached over with his free hand and ripped a spare charge clip from Aeryn's pistol belt.

He swung her boots back downward to the table and let them drop there. The Sebacean woman snarled in anger as she recovered her balance and rocketed to her feet. Berret ignored the cursing woman just mere hentas from him as he drew his pulse pistol and inserted the new magazine in the handle. He checked the power indicators and saw they were all lit; his weapon now had a full load.

He snapped the gun back into his holster and only then turned his unconcerned gaze to the still sputtering woman. He keep his face a blank mask, just as he had in that other life when he was a Shrike, letting Aeryn threaten and curse him until she was blue in the face.

When she seemed to run out of things to say, he went on to inform her that he would be stopping by the armory to gather more charges for his pistol, and that she could either instruct Pilot to open it, or he would use the charge he now had to overload the pistol and blow the armory door open, and then he would help himself to whatever he felt like arming himself with once inside it.

Despite her anger of only moments before, Aeryn seemed to find this new change in the human intriguing for some reason. The self-amused smile return to her face in full bloom.

"Go ahead then," she said with a cold grin. "Get all frelled up on some jolt juice and blow your own foot off tonight. Its not that I'll really care. Maybe you'll do us all a favor and accidentally blow your head off instead. Maybe I'll get really lucky and you'll blast a hole in the nurfer Crichton's head too before you kill yourself off."

Berret didn't respond to her taunt.

"Are you going to order the door unlocked or do I do it my way?" he simply asked instead.

"Pilot, unlock the armory. Let him take whatever he wants," she finally said in the direction of the holo-com. "Happy?" she asked him next.

"Ecstatic," he replied, with only a trace of sarcasm.

With that accomplished, he turned from her to the nearest storage rack and pulled out a military field ration. He tore the container open and let it drop to the table before taking a seat in front of it.

The ex-Peacekeeper reclaimed her former chair and sat down again, sipping at her morning drink of whatever passed for hot coffee there in the Territories. She critically eyed the man eating his meal up and down as she did.

"Just so you know, if you ever touch me like that again… I'll kill you," she finally said nonchalantly.

Berret, now Jared Connors – a lowly un-augmented human, wisely chose not to reply. Aeryn would be greatly more than a match for him now, even on his best day she would be the superior fighter.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said instead neutrally.

The comment must have been the right one, as the woman visibly relaxed into her normal contemptuous posture. "Though I do have to admit I never thought I'd see the solar day when you have the mivonks to do what you just did."

"I'm learning to expand my horizons," he answered.

"We'll see," she commented. "You might even surprise me and become somebody I could stand to deal with on a day-to-day basis. Not like that bastard Crichton."

The comment more than interested Berret greatly. "You seem to hate us, but why do you hate him so much more?" he asked, while pretending to be more interested with the final last scraps of his cold field ration.

"He disgusts me," Aeryn spat. "He chooses to mingle with that Interion tralk like they were bonded. At first when I thought the three of you were Sebacean, Peacekeepers like myself, I was repulse by the thought. But then I learned you were just some deficient genetic-reject species and then I could have learned to ignore it. But he goes out of his way to flaunt it every chance he gets. He even stooped to being with a lowly Tech at one time, which at best is forgivable… but at least she was Sebacean. Even you keep your frelling of that Nebari abomination to yourself and out of general sight. Not that it makes you much improved over Crichton."

"And that is why you hate us?" he asked, pushing the empty ration package away from him and giving her his full attention. "We accept others' differences so freely?"

"I hate you because you're weak and undisciplined," she supplied. "Even while PK grunts occasionally take a pleasure slave of another race, it's the rewards of war. But we don't advertise it, and we certainly don't treat them as equals. They are merely property… to be used, bought, traded, or sold… or even killed when they have outlived their usefulness. And along comes the great Commander John Crichton to preach to us about how wrong the order of things is and how immoral it is for Peacekeepers to subject the lesser species under their rule. We brought peace and order and paid for it in our own flesh and blood, we earned our place. Without us, the other races in the Territories would be living as nothing but the animals they really are."

"And John strongly disputes this philosophy with you at every chance," Berret put in.

"What right does he have to judge a system that has worked for thousands of cycles before he was born?"

"Perhaps he thought you had the capacity to view the matter in a broader form than your compatriots?"

"And what? Crusade for alien civil rights with him?" she sneered. "He's a alien himself. He's no better than that red-haired tralk he beds every night. At best he could only be a pleasure slave among Peacekeeper society."

"And he chose her over you," Berret slipped in.

Aeryn almost missed the comment but not quite. Her eyes turned hard and narrow as she leaned over the table toward him. "I had thought that while you were sober, you'd might be different… but I can see you're just as inferior as him. You can go frell yourself too for all it matters. As a Peacekeeper I would have just killed you all. Sadly, Pilot will not allow it. Now if you don't mind I have better things to do with my time such as service my Prowler. If you were really interested in doing something helpful aboard this ship, you could go back to your quarters and shower that Nebari stench off of you."

She got up and kicked her chair over backwards before leaving.

Berret watched her go, wondering what she'd say if she knew of the other lifetime where she and John had become more than just lovers, life-mates would be more the word. He than wondered if it would matter to this version of Aeryn Sun. As a born Peacekeeper, he'd known that the other Aeryn had at one time viewed other species similar to the way this Aeryn did. Meeting up with that other John Crichton had given that other Officer Sun a chance to grow beyond her PK upbringing. Somehow that had never happened here, the two had never gotten passed their first dissimilarities and have became antagonists. Then this Jool had arrived and came between them, making the riff even wider, and leaving Aeryn bitter at having been rejected by someone she had been told was beneath her all her life.

Someone she instinctively knew she wanted to be with despite their differences.

The dismal thought only made him strangely ache for that other Chiana in his memories.

For lack of anything better to do at the moment, Berret left the Center Chamber and headed up to the Command Tier. Surprisingly, he found D'argo on the deck; lounging in an unfamiliar large command chair that one of his memories told him was salvaged from a derelict Luxan warship they had encountered. The warrior had dragged the chair aboard and deposited it upon the command deck where he spent much of his waking arns.

"What the frell do you want, human?" D'argo half-growled disinterestedly from his position before the huge view screen.

"Nothing," Berret replied with just as much disinterest.

The Luxan let a single snicker slip pass. "I see that Shrike fenik hasn't killed you yet."

"Not yet," he answered noncommittally.

"I'd like to be there when she does to see that."

"Why?" asked Berret with a little more interest.

D'argo shrugged. "I just would. It would be entertaining, something to pass the frelling time with."

"If you're looking for something to do… maybe you should be trying to find your son," Berret tried.

The ex-Enforcer was probing for a reaction and got an unexpected one. D'argo whirled around in his chair hissing a deep snarl of near rage.

"You dare mock me, human!" he roared. "Knowing that both my wife and infant son are dead by Peacekeeper hands!"

Berret backpedaled, having severely miscalculated. Had he bothered to sort through his memories prior to making the comment, he might have recalled that grim fact about the Luxan's family.

"Sorry," he said while holding up both hands in a peaceful gesture. "Must have slipped my mind with all the drinking I do. I didn't mean anything by it."

D'argo glared and hissed again, though not as angrily as a few microts ago. He didn't seem much inclined to get up and leave his seat at the moment.

"That's the first smart thing I've heard you say," D'argo told him. "You are a drunken idiot… and really not worth the trouble of getting up to kill anyway."

"Thanks," Berret replied cautiously.

D'argo waved one huge hand at him dismissively.

"Don't ever forget it again, human. I don't care about much else since having my son die in my arms," the Luxan said, "Bring it up again, drunk or not, and I'll snap your neck despite what Pilot says."

"I won't" said Berret, and then he decided to leave the tier. D'argo wasn't going to be much in the way of a source of information. The big hard-faced warrior had already dismissed him from his thoughts and was gazing out of the holo-screen, already lost somewhere else in the stars.

There was one reoccurring point of reference in both his discussions with Aeryn and D'argo. Pilot seemed to be the one keeping this unruly lot for the most part under control.

He would be the next one he visited for answers.

Berret entered the den, hoping this next interview would go more smoothly than the previous ones.

He had a sudden sinking feeling he was wrong as he walked down the gangway to Pilot's station and two DRDs sitting on the immense control desk unlimbered their pulse guns from their ports and point the weapons right at him as he approached.

Pilot's big eyes held a hint of suspicion as he raised one large brow to regard the man.

"Greetings, Jared Connors," Pilot said tightly. "What can I do for you?"

The DRDs changed positions to keep him covered as he drew to a stop before the station.

"I was hoping we could talk, Pilot," Berret explained.

"I see," said Pilot, "I also see that you have armed yourself, that is not your usual custom. Did you feel you needed a pulse pistol to enter the den to speak with me?"

"No. No, Pilot. That has nothing to do with you," he said to the helmsman. "I have just been feeling strange lately and having the gun makes me feel better for some reason."

"I see," Pilot repeated. "Had you been anyone else aboard, I would not have allowed you in here with a weapon. However, you have never been a problem like the others… and I am most curious about your behavior of late. You are not engaged in your usual 'habits'."

"You mean drinking until I can't see straight," Berret filled in bluntly.

"Yes," Pilot answered. "Moya has also sensed some change in you and is intrigued as well."

"Well, that's what I was hoping to speak with both of you about," the human began. "I'm afraid you might not believe what I tell you."

"We will not know that for sure until you tell us," Pilot countered.

"All right, this will probably take awhile," Berret said. "Could you possibly have the DRDs put their guns away?" he asked.

"No," Pilot replied without a moment's thought. "I think it best for the moment."

"Okay, this will be hard enough going through while not being at gun point," Berret said, "With your permission, I'll take out my pistol and put it up on your pedestal out of my reach. Will that make you feel better?"

"Yes. You have my permission to do so… but slowly," Pilot responded.

Berret did as instructed, and with his gun secure under Pilot's control, the DRD's housed their own weapons but stayed at their sentry positions on the control desk.

With no weapons pointing at him, Berret felt better enough to concentrate fully on his tale, the telling of which lasted better than an arn with Pilot and Moya listening and then asking questions after his narrative was finished.


	3. Chapter 3

Surprisingly, Pilot hadn't pronounced him crazy as all hezmana after he finished relating his strange account of remembering duel lives. However, the helmsman processed the tale and then proceeded to spout varies theories based on quantum mechanics, parallel alternated universes co-existing in the same space, reality fractures in time, and the new-age Chaos theory concept of somebody named U'elzKib – all of which made Berret's recovering head spin as if he'd just stuck it into the middle of Moya's starburst stream.

Mentioning his confusion and inability to follow the scientific drabble only earned him a frown of deep annoyance from Pilot… but at least he was tolerant enough to reframe from ordering the DRD's to shoot the dense-witted human.

It was enough for the man to know that it was possible he wasn't going crazy, or had drunk something that deep fried all his brain cells, and that it was possible there might be something real to the odd memories he found himself with. Any slim hope was better than none at all.

Pilot was captivated enough with the problem to promise to keep researching Moya's immense data stores for other possible answers… and to pare down any explanations he found into something his 'small brain' could cope with understanding.

Berret wisely chose to ignore the slight insult, not that he had much choice in the matter, and thanked Pilot for his help before retrieving his pistol (again while under close DRD scrutiny and weapon's cover) and leaving the fortress-like atmosphere of the den.

He made several turns in the corridors outside Pilot's chamber, wondering where he should go next in his search to what was happening to him. He could think of nothing more to do at the immediate time that would be beneficial, and he definitely didn't wish to run into any of his crewmates for the moment. None of them had turned out to be very pleasant in the least… except for maybe Chiana.

But he found that she disturbed him on a whole new level most of all. Everything about the female Shrike struck him as wrong. Somehow he rather believe that the version of her in his alternate daydreams was the more true. The comparison left him with a deep sad ache he didn't have a clue as to how to fix. It so disturbed him that he now constantly thought of himself as the 'Berret' of the memories, instead of the Jared Connors he knew himself to be in reality.

Berret frowned again at his helplessness, as he paused on the tier to decide what he wanted to do… or to see if some new idea struck him. As soon as he came to a halt, the muddy sounds of whispers came to him from a murky side corridor. The human curiously strained to listen, but couldn't make out who they might be, then he became slightly paranoid as the thought occurred to him that perhaps maybe a few of his 'crewmates' had a ambush in mind of him.

As silly as he told himself that sounded, he found he didn't want to take a chance that the odd notion had been right. So remembering the old adage that the best defense is a good offense, he drew his pulse gun and began to creep down the hallway toward the voices to spring his own surprise attack.

The muffled voices grew louder as he close the distance down the dimly lit access way. Reaching the end before the final bend, which his memory surprisingly informed him led to a maintenance crawlway hatch, he was able to recognize one of the voices as belonging to Rygel.

The other he was sure he didn't know… or more accurately rather, that he couldn't place in recent memory.

"… the others will not find out," he heard the Hynerian say.

The other voice said something in reply in even a lower tone that he couldn't hear at all. Berret shrugged to himself and decided there was no point in attempting to eavesdrop, and step around the corner brandishing his pulse pistol in a threatening way.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded in a harsh bark.

Rygel jumped in his throne seat at the sudden interruption and produced a very satisfying squeak of near terror. The other figure is what brought Berret to a staggering halt, and almost made him fumble his gun.

The other person-shaped form in the corridor with the Hynerian was stooped over so it squatted at a lower level than Rygel's Hoverthrone, giving the impression that it was paying homage. It was dressed in filthy ragged leather, patched with a mishmash of other materials. On its back was some type of mechanical device built into a battered backpack. Black hoses ran from the machine into the figure's padded leather headpiece. The headpiece itself was like a helmet with a partial facemask… and looked oddly familiar.

The creature itself was filthy and reeked almost as badly as it looked. Berret hadn't noticed the smell until he had rounded the corner and was literally on top of the pair.

Rygel, realizing who had surprised him, spun his thronesled around to face the human with great indignity and sudden growing anger.

"What the frell do you want, Connors?" he spat back in just as much a bark as Berret had used just a few microts before. "Is that fenik assassin with you? If she is, keep the bitch away from me!"

Once the smaller being had moved his flying chair around, the human could clearly see the features of the cowering creature in tattered leather.

"Scorpius!" Berret uttered in clear surprise, not sure if he should be confused or alarmed at the half-Scarran's presence on the Leviathan. It only lightly touched on him that in fact he had recognized the creature almost immediately without having to sort through two sets of memories.

"What of it, hooman?" Rygel asked, now sure that the obtrusive man was indeed also alone. "What gives you the right to be skulking around, spying on your betters?"

"That… is Scorpius!" was all Berret could say, as he managed the currently complicated multi-task of also pointing at the half-breed with one finger.

"I know its name, dimwit," the Hynerian royal replied with even less patience.

"Please… please, Dominar," Scorpius pleaded as he surged forward on his knees to beg before Rygel's throne. "Let me go back to the crawlways now." Berret had a bright mental flash of a much different Scorpius as the creature turned his fearful eyes upwards toward him next, a image of Scorpius that appeared much more sinister and dangerous. "I promise… I promise I will not venture out onto the tiers again! Please, don't punish me!" he begged of Berret and cringed into even a smaller bundle on the deck.

Rygel turned back to the terrified being on the floor.

"No one will harm you," he promised in a surprisingly gentle tone. "You have my word as Dominar. You may return to your crawlway. I will summons you again when I'm ready to complete our discussion."

Scorpius's dirty face broke into a relieved smile.

"Thank you, thank you, my Dominar," the retched figure nearly sang as he made to kiss one of Rygel's exposed feet. The Hynerian saw the gratitude coming and managed to lift the threatened limb out of reach with a fleeting look of distaste. Scorpius instead settled for snatching at the hem of Rygel's robe and placed his offer of obedience there before scuttling into the hatchway, which until then, Berret had not noticed had been standing open.

"What… the… hell, was that?" Berret found himself asking as the hatch slammed closed.

Rygel looked at him and twisted his rubbery lips together briefly before answering.

"None of your goddess damned business," he said darkly.

"My ass," Berret replied haughtily. "What is he doing here? And is he living in the maintenance access ways?"

"Well, where else would he be?" the Royal asked as a reply. "No one will let him live up here. And he likes the rest of you even less than I do."

Berret was growing flustered. "Yeah… but that was Scorpius! Why isn't he with the Peacekeepers?"

"Peacekeepers!" Rygel barked in a laugh. "Are you as stupid as you are ugly? Never mind, don't answer that – of course you are. The Peacekeepers want to kill him just as badly as the Scarrans do. Neither of those bastard races suffers half-breeds very well. His only option was to see refuge here with the rest of us poor pitiful nurfers," Rygel explained. He then flicked at his wispy beard with one stubby finger as he contemplated the human before him. "Maybe if you hadn't been too busy drinking yourself into oblivion, you might have remembered he was down there… and not be wasting my time now with your stupid hooman questions."

"I don't need your wart covered ass to remind me I've had a few… problems adjusting," Berret found himself saying defensively.

Rygel's smirk bloomed into full view.

"Oh ho… so that hit a nerve did it?" he taunted. "Well, it's about botching time. I for one; am frelling tired of you being a burden around here. Now lets see you pull your own weight for once."

Berret holstered his pistol in deepening irritation.

"Shut up," he growled as he spun around abruptly and headed back toward the main corridor, no longer caring what the Hynerian was up to with the shadowy Scorpius. Behind him, Rygel's mocking chuckles filled the access way, poking at his retreating back like daggers.

"And while you're at it, Nik-nik brains… why don't you see to cleaning up and de-clawing that abomination you're bumping uglies with?"

Without turning around, Berret replied with the time honored one-finger-salute as he continued on his way.

The gesture was obviously one the aliens understood, as it only made Rygel laugh uproariously.

A few moments later, and desperately trying not to acknowledge that Rygel had made something of a point about his other room-mate dilemma, Berret found himself down in one of Moya's massive storage bays, rummaging through surplus clothing bins. Within half-an-arn, he seemed to have gathered a majority of what he believed he needed, hoping he had the sizes close to correct.

He left the bay and returned to his quarters just in time to find that Chiana had awakened and was just finishing snapping the final brace around her forearm. Her black cloak lay draped over a nearby chair, the last garment of her normal Enforcer garb she had left to don.

Berret regarded the gunmetal armor that covered her lithe body; again he felt something wrong with the bluish-black scales that sheathe her foot to neck.

"Chiana," he said as he entered the room.

"Yes?" she inquired in her nearly toneless voice as she gave him her full attention.

"No," he said, slightly thrusting his chin out at the armor and then holding up the bundle of new clothing that filled both his arms. "Its time you got use to wearing something else."

"Why?" she asked, with a minute tilt of her head. The gesture reminded him of that other Nebari girl.

He shook the memory from his thoughts and focused on the real girl that was before him. "Because it is part of learning to be something more."

"I will not be able to protect you as well without my armor and weapons," she replied.

"I'll be fine," he promised, and again held up the clothing to her. "Please," he added.

The gray Enforcer looked hesitant for a split microt, then the emotion faded in an eye-blink and her features slid back into their usual vacuity.

"As you wish," she finally complied, and began to take off her weapons and armor in precise reverse order.

"Thank you," he told her as he waited while she stripped down. Once the armor was removed he helped her pick out some of the clothing he had brought with him. Part of him wished she'd been more helpful in deciding, as she mostly just defaulted to his judgment when he attempted to get her opinion on what items she might have wanted to try wearing first. Not having much in a keen fashion sense, he settled for clothing in basic black and grays to start with. Most of the footwear he had brought was the wrong size, except for one pair of slipper-like shoes. The Shrike tried the shoes on briefly, but dismissed them in favor of re-donning her own armored boots.

A burst of unwanted alternate memory hit Berret then, this time it was the other Chiana bringing him surplus clothing and coaxing him out of Enforcer armor for the first time. In that vision, he also chose to keep his own boots at first instead of using the Peacekeeper combat boots the Nebari brought to him. He shook his head hard to clear the fog from it. Now he was again considering that most of those other memories couldn't be for real. Why would they follow so closely with what was happening here and now? His mind had to be taking facts from this life and working them into the bizarre ones he was remembering.

That could be possibly the best of many explanations he had to consider.

The girl was fully dressed now in her new attire, and standing before him as if for inspection.

"How does it feel?" he asked her.

"Light," she replied immediately.

He found he could laugh more easily with her now. She looked more… normal… to him.

"Yes, I imagine it does. You'll get use to it in time," he assured.

"As you wish," was all she said.

He looked her over well. The clothing was a little large for her, but not by too much. Even with her curves hidden in the loose tunic and baggy pants, she still looked beautiful. He found himself wishing she would just learn to smile and the effect would be perfect.

As soon as he had the thought, another more guilty one invaded. He was looking at her as a desirable woman, and totally forgetting the fiancée he had left home on Earth.

"_Yuriko,"_ he thought as he recalled her pretty face. That also somehow seemed wrong to him at the same time. Maybe because the Asian woman was so far away and in all likelihood he was never going to see her again. Maybe because some part of him told him that she belonged to someone else, to some other life that had always been beyond his reach. For some reason, the Nebari girl here… seemed the most real, the most correct of the pair.

And still, she was wrong in too many ways.

"Am I acceptable?" Chiana asked him, breaking him out of the loop of thoughts he was turning round.

"What?" he asked without thinking.

"Am I acceptable in my current garb?" she repeated. "You have not spoken for over a micron."

Berret felt himself blush slightly, though he knew of no reason why he should. Perhaps because he had allowed himself to be thinking about another woman for the brief moment… as strange a reason as that was.

"Yes, you look fine," he reaffirmed.

"As you wish," Chiana said again, and Berret decided that he was going to have to work on her replies. Things between them should not always be, 'as he wished'.

Something passed over Chiana's face for a moment, as if she were having trouble coming to a decision about something and needed to carefully calculate all the possible results. A few microts later, she awkwardly stepped forward until she was about a half step away and tilted her head up to him.

Curious, Berret waited to see what she would do, and was mildly surprised when she eased in and planted a kiss on his lips.

Unlike the mechanical kissing she did while they 'recreated', this one was soft and almost innocent.

It was the first time he could remember ever feeling anything like an emotion in a kiss from her.

"What was that for," he inquired as she broke the kiss and backed away a step.

"A… thank you," she told him. "I thought it would be a proper sign of gratitude… for the clothing." She paused as if thinking something more over, then added, "Was I in error?"

Berret smiled.

"No, not at all," he assured her. "You were perfectly correct."

Berret decided that since Chiana had just arose, and he still couldn't think of anything else to do to solve his duel memory problem for the moment, that they might as well head to the Center Chamber to get the Nebari Shrike something to break her fast with.

On the way to the crew's mess, Chiana had tried to take the lead as they walked as she mostly had done the entire time that had been together. Walking in front of him had been her way of protecting him against an ambush. A left over behavior from her time as a Syndicate Enforcer he knew.

While he had been either too drunk or hung over to care before to put a stop to the custom, today would be the beginning of something different. It had been a bit of a struggle to bend the girl of her desire to walk 'point' for him and get her to walk besides him. Several times he found that she'd start to rush ahead of him to take up her prior position, until he hit upon looping his elbow through her arm to force Chiana to remain at his side.

The Nebari at first balked slightly at this restriction, particularly when he purposely reduced them to a slow casual stroll along the corridor, pausing every once in a while to gaze out a porthole on Moya's very top tier where the mess was located.

He tried starting a conversation about the view of the stars the ports held, but at first Chiana showed no interest. He surprised himself by actually recalling a few facts about the system they were currently in, and pointed different aspects out to the girl. Drawing her in close to him and practically making her pay attention to what he was showing her, instead of her self-imposed guard duty.

Holding the Nebari girl by one shoulder and occasionally gently turning her head in a new direction to show her something else, he spoke of what he could remember about the stars. Gradually she seemed to become mildly interested in what he was telling her, and he'd reward her attentiveness with an absently affectionate stroke of her hair.

He wasn't sure if she really was all that interested in the view of space, or if she was only appeasing him because she believed he just wanted to talk, or if she was simply responding to his intimate touches and would endure anything just to have them continue. He didn't care at the moment what the reason was, she was allowing the experience and that was a first step to her finding something more in life.

And it didn't hurt for that little while, with her close to him and listening to his every word, that he wasn't craving a drink.

At the very last portal before the access way to the Center Camber, a nearby nebula rolled with swirling blue shades and bright flashes of stored static electricity. The cosmic cloud was one of the reasons why the Leviathan hovered so near the area. It would provide excellent and impenetrable cover from scanning should an enemy happen along to discover them.

The chaos of the undulating matter of the nebula seemed to attract the Shrike as she stepped forward to the port to gaze out at the stellar haze. She was so close to the transparent bio-metal of the window that her reflection was lightly transposed over the view.

"Beautiful," she breathed out at the nebula, as she was strangely taken in by it.

Berret knew somehow that she was oddly fascinated by the chaos the nebula represented. That she was unknowingly finding a correlation with the space anomaly and her current situation in her life. Part of him that remembered being a Shrike could recall also having an odd attraction to things chaotic. It had somehow been familiar to him. Something he could relate to on some level.

The human also found he was being strongly drawn by something totally different, at the moment in the here and now that was reality.

'I know," he added in the same reverent tone, as he reach forward over her shoulder to caress her reflection's cheek.

Chiana noticed for the first time that her features were reflected over the view of the nebula, and that Berret's comment had been focused solely on that alone.

She turned slowly to face him, and when she did, Berret was amazed to find that her usually emotionless face was now changing to one he could only think of as innocent wonder.

Chiana seemed to be a person waking to a dream. When she had finally turned to face him, for the first time he could remember in that reality, her dark eyes looked as if they held a soul behind them.

Those eyes locked with his, and he was irresistibly drawn closer to her. When their lips meet it was a surprise. Their kiss in his quarters had been innocent, this one held the fire of wanting passion.

Chiana's hunger reached for him and he felt his own soul ignite in response to her.

This was how it was suppose to be something told him inside.

The kiss last a bare few microts… and it also lasted for cycles at the same instant. Suddenly, with all the dread possible for one person to feel, it turned.

Chiana's fire turned cold. When Berret opened his eyes, he saw the life-spark fading from Chiana's. The soul behind her dark eyes died and he swore he could taste grief on her lips as she broke the kiss.

The emotionless mask slid back in place less than a heartbeat later. She didn't pull further away from him. But her gaze lowered from his eyes to stare blankly at his chest.

"I am… not worthy," she said in way of explanation quietly.

He knew! He knew exactly what was happening. Like a punch in the gut the memories from that other life hit him. He remembered the feeling… of not being worthy. Of being certain that the other Chiana could never love him. Should never love him! That he didn't deserve someone like that Chiana to love him.

He remembered making himself believe that if Chiana had ever come to know all he had done as a Syndicate Enforcer, of all the blood he'd spilled and all the lives he'd taken, that the only outcome would be that she'd be disgusted… repulsed by him. He would lose everything, even the slight favor of her friendship if she ever discovered the truth about him.

So he strangled every feeling he had for her, every want he had for something more with her. Turned a deaf and unbelieving ear to every declaration of love or affection she uttered for him. A blind eye to every time she showed him what was in her heart.

In the end he had become as hardened as his cold Enforcer's armor… or nearly so.

This Shrike… this victim of Syndicate cruelty… was traveling that very same path.

Inside, he knew he would rather live as that other version of himself. It would be easier than seeing this form of Chiana. It pained him to know of the images of a Chiana that might have been… the astounding girl that should have been. This pale rendering of that bright soul should never have happened. The universe had lost something so very precious, and he found that he would do anything at that moment to trade places with her.

"No, don't say that. Don't even think it!" he told her, but she refused to meet his eyes again. Continuing to stare blankly ahead.

"You do not understand what I have been," she finally replied a few microts later. "If you knew… you would send me away."

"No… I wouldn't."

"If you knew, you would have no other choice," she reaffirmed. "I am not… cannot be what I want…" she started but cut herself off. She then went on to finish, "I cannot be what you would like me to be."

He didn't know how to explain to her the dreams, the alternate life he lived in her place. He only knew for sure that it was important he find a way to make her understand. Berret as Jared Connors briefly wondered if that other Chiana had felt the hollow despair he was feeling now, trying to make her own Berret understand and accept her love. If she had felt the almost helpless hurt he was feeling with his Chiana.

He decided she most certainly had.

"No, I would not send you away. Because I know how you were suppose to be," he countered.

Suddenly he realized he'd struck upon a key to that other life. It was for that same reason that the other Chiana loved her Berret – because she understood how he was supposed to be. She saw more than what he was.

And she had done it without the special trick of having lived two lives at once.

Berret gleamed at that moment just how special the alternate Chiana had to be. His Chiana only turned the corners of her lips downward briefly as she attempt to comprehend his latest statement, but apparently couldn't make sense of it well enough to suit her.

The human knew that he had to help find a way for this Chiana, his real Chiana, to free herself from the prison the Black Syndicate had left her in inside her own body.

He gently cupped her chin and raise her eyes to meet his again, well aware that had she chosen, her microbe augmented muscles would have prevented him from budging her a henta against her will. Gratefully she allowed him to move her.

Once their eyes locked once again he told her, "I don't care if you have bathed in the blood of millions, that wasn't by your choice. I will never let you forget that, and I will never ask you to leave."

His other self had supplied him with what he knew she had to be thinking was a secret. That fact that he had so bluntly come out with it seemed to throw the female Shrike, but only slightly.

"How can you be sure?" she asked. "I myself am not totally sure that I did not want to be what I was made into. That I did not enjoy what I did as a Enforcer."

"You'll just have to trust me," was all he could really tell her for the time being. "And keep telling yourself that you deserve what others feel for you."

"I still do things on instinct, like with the Hynerian…"

"You will learn to control that, and break it… in time," he assured her firmly.

She gazed at him silently for a few more moments.

"I… want to believe," she finally confessed in a near whisper.

"That's a good start," he told her. And seeing she hadn't pulled away from him, he slowly leaned back in for another kiss. It was important that she see he believed in her as well, and for him to show it.

In that other world only he recalled, it had been that Chiana's persistence that had kept that other Berret from totally losing himself in his self-imposed desolation.

She permitted his lips to touch hers again, but he felt no real emotion the same as most other times.

However, before they parted again, he did feel a slight increase in pressure on her part at the end.

Almost as if she were allowing a bit of hope to creep in.

He took it as a good sign and left it at that.


End file.
